


Plan B

by urgaylol



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Smut, but only in the second chapter, im sorry i wrote this ive just had this dumb idea in my head for too long and it needed to come out, milking the 'oh no we slept together last night' trope for all it's worth, purposefully uncomfortable love confessions, smut that's supposed to be an accurate representation of two very drunk people, smut thats not entirely supposed to be sexy, why did i write this i already regret it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urgaylol/pseuds/urgaylol
Summary: Hanzo and McCree ask the age old question of "What the hell happened last night?"(note: aggressively unbeta-d)





	1. The Morning After

Hanzo Shimada knew something was off long before he opened his eyes.

He could smell that he was in his own quarters, and the silky feeling underneath his heavy head told him he was in his own bed. But an unfamiliar weight pressed against his chest and head, and wrapped low around his back.

Hanzo's blood turned cold with the thought that he had been overtaken in the night and restrained. But why his kidnappers would have left him in his own room, he couldn't understand. And as far as he knew, Watchpoint security was the best on the planet. Perhaps there was another explanation.

Yes, there was definitely another explanation. As he considered the warmth, shape, and nature of his bonds, Hanzo realized with a jolt that he was tucked into the chest of another human. And as far as Hanzo could tell, there wasn't a single scrap of clothing between the two of them.

Oh no.

As for who's chest it was and which coworker he was going to have to avoid eye contact with until one of the two of them died, that would take some reminiscing. Hanzo had no memory of what had happened last night, not even a recollection of when he'd gotten into bed. Hanzo racked his brain for the last event he remembered having transpired. A few jumbling images came to him, of returning from a mission, of being angry, of a gourd of sake continuously being brought to his mouth, of a knock at his door and Jesse McCree stumbling throu--

_Oh no._

With one deep drink of air into his sinuses, Hanzo's nightmare was confirmed. The compound smell of tobacco, plebeian-scented body wash, and gun power belonged to no one else on the base.

Too ashamed to open his eyes, Hanzo groaned quietly, long and slow. He'd gone and done it. Done what he knew he was going to do from day one; ruin the best friendship he'd had in the last decade.

In hindsight, it had been bound to happen eventually. Hanzo was a proud man, but that didn't mean he wasn't above getting viciously inebriated and admitting loudly to himself and others that he was more of a fundamentally broken, ticking-time bomb of an emotional disaster than a being made of flesh and blood, at least until he was asked to vacate the premises.

Although apparently, he wasn't above getting viciously inebriated and doing a lot of things. Hanzo groaned again.

He let his eyelids flutter open, only to slam them closed after a mere second. Passed the tan chest he was snuggled into, the white glare of light seeping in from the corner of the window had his head stinging. The bite of a hangover, he assumed. To be honest, he was surprised it wasn't worse, considering how much he must have drank. He wasn't even nauseous.

Hanzo wriggled his body, just the tiniest bit to find that Jesse's right arm was around his back in a vice, and that their legs were tangled together like a complicated combination lock.

He weighed his options. Getting out of bed, or even moving a few inches to the left would require waking Jesse up. Hanzo supposed he could pretend to be asleep until Jesse woke naturally, taking the responsibility of the situation off of himself. However, the thought of waiting silently, unable to move for what could be hours was becoming less and less appealing every second.

So with difficulty, Hanzo stirred. He cleared his throat.

Jesse murmured a few sounds and nuzzled a soft mouth and a short, scratchy beard against Hanzo's forehead, and the situation became a thousand times worse as Hanzo was forced to confront an extreamly untimely series of emotions.

Because as much as he loathed to admit it to himself and would probably have spilled important Overwatch secrets to talon before he said it out loud, there was a part of himself that felt pleased with the predicament, no matter how violently he tried to silence it. A part of his mind that was currently feeding him dangerously hopeful sentiments; maybe this was the start of something, maybe if Jesse wanted him once he would want him again, maybe Jesse loved him ba--

Hanzo physically winced until his thought process ceased to resemble that of a lovesick child's. He cleared his throat again, louder this time.

" _Five more minutes._ " Jesse muttered.

Seeing no other options, Hanzo brought his head backwards, and then sharply forwards, knocking painfully against Jesse's chin.

"Ow!" Jesse exclaimed, jolting away from Hanzo's body. "Son of a bi-- _oh_."

Jesse cut himself off as Hanzo met his gaze. His eyes, now visible, swelled to the size of frightened dinner plates to match Hanzo's wide stare.

In a flurry of movement, Hanzo twisted onto his other side, unable to face the situation, and considering how much the mattress shook, the turn was mutual. A few horrible, long seconds dragged by before either of them spoke.

"So." Jesse finally said, coughing a little.

Hanzo grunted in response, and tightened the sheet further around himself. He realized that his blankets were gone, and that the sheet was all that was covering the two of them. It seemed strange, but he currently had bigger things to worry about.

"I guess there is such a thing as too much bourbon, after all." said Jesse. Keeping his face away from his company, Hanzo pulled the pillow out from under their heads and wacked Jesse in the head with it.

"Ow! Stop hitting me." Jesse followed. "What am I supposed't say?"

"You are supposed to hold your impertinent tongue and make yourself gone from my place of residence."

Jesse coughed again. He didn't move, and neither did Hanzo.

"You don't wanna...talk about this?" Jesse asked.

"What is there to talk about?" 

"I was kinda hoping you would tell me."

At first, Hanzo didn't understand. But after a moment of assessment, he realized Jesse was waiting for his reaction. Which was fair, Hanzo supposed. Out of the two of them, Jesse had a better track record with not throwing fits.

Hanzo growled and turned his face into the mattress.

"I don't know what to say." Hanzo admitted. He felt the bed dip as Jesse readjusted himself.

"Just tell me--" Jesse started, cutting himself off. "I see two ways this is gonna go down. Either you pretend to go back to sleep, and I can tip-toe out all nice and quiet-like and we can just spend the next month making excuses to avoid each other, or we can acknowledge that it happened, and move on. Be watchin' bowling on the couch by this Saturday."

Hanzo's brain was stuck on the words 'move on'. It seemed like the right thing to do, Hanzo supposed, but the way Jesse stated the sentiment so naturally stung.

"Hanzo, it--it's really ok." Jesse said, voice quieter. "I ain't gonna look at you different now, alright?"

Hanzo supposed it was easy for Jesse to say. Jesse wasn't the one who had woken five minutes ago tucked into the chest of the man he loved but couldn't tell, who he had apparently gotten a taste of but couldn't even remember it--

Hanzo supposed his thoughts were overly dramatic. And untimely, too. He quickly vowed not to indulge in his pain until the next time he was drunk and alone.

"We will talk about it, then." Hanzo said. "Speak your piece."

"Alright."

Neither of them said anything.

"What time is it?" Hanzo finally asked, needing to break the silence.

"Lemme check."

Hanzo heard the ding of Jesse's phone being unlocked.

"It's ten. Mission reports aren't due till three." Jesse followed.

"You have your phone?"

"It was under my head."

"Do you usually sleep with your phone under your head?"

"Yeah, what of it?"

"You don't fear the potential side affects of electromagnetic radiation?"

"Look, Hanz, if sleepin' with a cell phone gives you a tumor, we're all gonna have tumors."

"So?"

"So I'll be fine."

Hanzo sneered a sneer that Jesse couldn't see.

"Are you truly so vacuous that you believe what you said makes any sort of sense? Or are you aware of how flimsy the justification of the sentiment is, but you humor it anyway so that you can continue to be as lazy as you please without ever considering the consequences?" Hanzo asked.

Jesse let out a light little snicker.

"You're stalling." Jesse said.

"Half true. I also simply enjoy bickering."

Jesse snickered again, and this time, Hanzo cracked a smile.

"So." said Jesse.

"Yes."

"We got real drunk last night."

"Yes."

"And we can't remember anything."

"Yes."

"But a lot a' signs are pointing to us having gone for a roll in the hay."

"Please do not call it that."

"Round a catch."

"No."

"Sideways Charleston."

"Just get on with it." Hanzo pleaded.

"Alright, fine." Jesse replied. "We're good friends, I think we can both at least admit that."

"Yes."

"Just good friends."

"Yes."

"So, we'll both admit it was a mistake."

"We will."

Hanzo heart pounded harder each long second that passed.

"Perhaps we should wait until we are are no longer naked to finish this conversation." Hanzo finally offered.

"Only if you help me find my clothes."

"Why must I help?"

"You could say I, uh, need the hand."

Finally working up the nerve to face his company, Hanzo glanced over his shoulder to see a weary, heavy-eyed, aggressively bed-headed Jesse lift a stump of a left arm over the covers.

"Why would you take it off?" Hanzo asked, knowing full well Jesse only took his arm off for maintenance checks.

"I'm still trying to work that one out."

Hanzo scanned his room. He couldn't spot any pieces from either of their sets of clothing in plain sight, or Jesse's prosthetic.

"Give me something to cover myself with," said Hanzo, "and I will help."

Jesse glanced at Hanzo's overly-complicated bureau.

"Which drawer?" Jesse asked.

"Bottom left."

"Why can't you do it?"

"Paresthesia. You crushed my legs." Hanzo lied, not having the nerve to explain that even with a few layers of clothing, he was going to need a minute or two before he was ready for his front side to be seen below the waist.

"Mornings, huh?" Jesse replied. Hanzo threw the pillow at him.

"Just complete your task."

"Alright. Calm down." 

Jesse started to leave the bed, taking the sheet with him. Hanzo yelped and yanked it back before it could uncover anything below his navel.

"Sorry, forgot how little we were working with." Jesse followed. "You keep the sheet."

Hanzo drew his eyes to the wall as Jesse left the bed for real this time, and kept them there as he listened to Jesse shuffle about.

"You said bottom left, right?" Jesse asked.

"Yes, why?"

"There's nothin' in here."

Hanzo scowled in confusion. That couldn't be right. Even if Jesse had opened the wrong drawer, Hanzo didn't have any empty drawers.

"Wait, no, there's a note." Jesse followed.

"A note?"

"It just says ' _check bathroom'."_

Hanzo's head spun.

"Who wrote it?" he asked.

"It's my handwriting."

"What does it mean?"

"I'm assuming it means to check the bathroom, but I'm a bit fuzzy on the details."

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut, trying to come up with some recollection of the night before. It felt like the whole night was just gone, like someone had scratched a chunk of tape out from his memory. 

"Try another." he ordered once he had regained his composure.

"Gottcha." Jesse replied, and Hanzo heard the sound of another drawer sliding open.

"Anything?"

"Just socks. Are these--"

Jesse cut himself off with an indescribable little noise.

"Are these monogrammed?" Jesse finished.

"What business is that of yours?"

"They're in...perfect rows. Five by six. You live like this?"

"What of it?"

"I mean, hey, a man wonders. How's the whole bureaucracy thing going?"

"It's going fine." Hanzo snapped. "Try another drawer."

Jesse tried another drawer.

"Hey, found my serape." he said. Must a' dumped it in here last night."

"Anything of mine?"

"'Fraid not. But you can look now."

Hanzo tentatively opened his eyes to see that Jesse had fashioned his serape around his waist, covering up from his hips to most way down his thighs.

"You gonna help?" Jesse asked. "I dunno if I wanna brave the outside alone."

"Fine. Fine. Turn your back."

Jesse turned his back while Hanzo fashioned a sort of toga with the sheet. He had more to work with than Jesse's serape, and by draping it across his shoulders and adding a few twists, he managed to cover most of himself from his neck to his knees, so long as he held it closed with one arm.

"Are you decent?" Jesse asked.

"Conceptually, no, but I'm no longer unadorned."

Jesse let out what sounded like a genuine chuckle as he turned back around. Their eyes met for a moment before they both turned to Hanzo's closed bedroom door with twin looks of uncertainty.

"After you." Jesse offered. Hanzo scoffed and stepped forward.

Hanzo opened the door and was more than a little relieved when he didn't spot any immediate signs of debauchery, such as a fire or missing wall. He did, however, spot his hair-ribbon curiously hanging from the light right outside his bedroom door.

When Jesse followed, Hanzo closed the door behind them.

"Could you grab that for me?" Hanzo requested, pointing to the ribbon he was too short to reach.

"Sure."

Jesse stepped into the hall. Hanzo followed, shutting the door behind them. Jesse grabbed the ribbon and passed it to Hanzo, who used to tie his make-shift toga shut so that he could use both hands.

The right end of Hanzo's short hallway opened into his living room. On the left end was the bathroom. Jesse took a tentative left apon joining Hanzo outside his bedroom.

"So." Jesse said, shaking the note. "The bathroom."

Jesse reached for the nob. Hanzo's blood turned into ice.

"Wait!" Hanzo cut in before he could push. "Wait."

"Hmm?"

"Perhaps we should not...:"

Hanzo trailed off. Jesse gave him an eye.

"Perhaps we should save the suggestions of our moronic, uncultured, libidinous selves for after we have searched the room." Hanzo finished.

"If you say so." Jesse replied. He still looked uncertain but he took his hand off the nob.

Hanzo walked into his tiny living room. Nothing was drastically different, but he could tell that something was off. Like everything had been sifted through. He did a quick once over to see if he could spot any of their clothes or Jesse's arm, but found nothing. He sighed and made over his bookshelves to continue his search. Jesse followed, starting on the opposite end so that they could cover more ground. Hanzo tried to peak around the shelves, but all he could find was dust.

"Can't help but shake the feeling that they're trying to communicate with us." Jesse said.

"They?"

"You know, us. But drunk. And in the past. I feel like they want us to do something."

"Because of the note?"

"Not just that. Just, something feels off."

Hanzo moved onto another bookshelf, unable to shake the feeling that Jesse was right.

"Do you remember anything?" Hanzo asked.

"No, but if it's any consolation to you, I don't think we got to the screwin' part."

"How could you possibly know that."

"Cause I just found my underwear. You got a laundry pile?"

"You are disgusting. Keep your lack of stamina to yourself." Hanzo sneered, but he pointed Jesse in the right direction.

"You asked."

Hanzo frowned. He wished desperately that he could be alone, but he knew Jesse wasn't going to leave until he had his arm and hat. He turned to the couch, hoping to find an answer in the cushions. For just a moment, a snapshot of a memory flashed in his mind's eye, of Jesse laying him down on the ground before the couch, their mouths searching for each other, their hands--

Hanzo shut the images down hard before he could remember anything else. Suddenly filled with the need for something cold on his skin, he abandoned his search in the living room and made his way to the kitchenette. He found a packet of pre-moistened pads he'd left out, one of which he used to swab off the grime on his eyelids, sighing a little as the clean chill soothed him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jesse asked.

Hanzo turned to see that Jesse was staring at him with the face of a man who was witnessing something confusing and a little frightening.

"Removing my eyeliner." Hanzo explained.

"What are you, gay?"

Unable to help himself, Hanzo burst into a fit of laughter. He continued to laugh until Jesse let out a little sigh of defeat.  

"Ok, I'm an idiot." Jesse said.

"Americans."

"Look, I need something for my head. I'm gonna get some ice." 

Jesse walked to the freezer and opened the door. Immediately, he began to chuckle. Hanzo looked over to try and find the joke.

"I found some underwear." Jesse explained, tossing Hanzo a very cold but clean pair of his briefs. Hanzo pulled them on under his sheet. He winced at the chill but was grateful for the security they gave him, drastically lowering the threat of unintentional exposure. 

"Mind if I borrow a pair?" Jesse followed.

"Only if you ever give them back."

Jesse placed the remaining frozen pairs of underwear on the counter. He slipped one on under his serape.

"There's another note." he said.

"What does it say?"

"Same thing. That we should check the bathroom."

Jesse jumped when Hanzo chuckled.

"This are possibly the strangest circumstances I've even woken up in." Hanzo explained, his laughter coming from the overstimulating cocktail of confusion and fear. "Which I believe is a considerable achievement."

Jesse gave Hanzo a shrug and an easy smile that despite the attitude, Hanzo picked up was most certainly an attempt to ease him. Hanzo scratched his head and pretended like it did. He'd never said it out-loud, but Hanzo had always liked the way Jesse looked in his room. Even without most of his clothing, his Western way of carrying himself clashed delightfully with the tatami walls and scroll art.

However, that was not what Hanzo wanted to be thinking about. 

"So," Jesse started, "what do you think's gonna be in the bathroom?"

"Considering you were the one who wrote the note, I doubt my imagination can conjour it before first hand experience."

"Yeah, I'm excited too. You thirsty?"

Hanzo realized with a start that he was. His throat was so dry that he momentarily wondered why it had taken him so long to notice.

"I suppose so." he answered.

"Yeah, me too."

One at a time, Jesse collected two cups off the dishrack and filled them with water. He handed one to Hanzo, who made a little sigh of gratitude as he wrapped the glass in his hands. He downed it in what felt like a single gulp and sighed again, unable to help it, as the prick of refreshment started to spread through his body. Cold water after a night of drinking truly was one of life's simple pleasures. 

He put his empty glass back on the rack, raising his eyebrows when he caught Jesse looking almost miffed, his eyes darkening as he shifted his stance unnaturally.

"What?" Hanzo asked.

"Not a thing." Jesse replied, his behavior shifting back to confident. Hanzo didn't push it.

Jesse downed his own water and made his way to the fridge. He opened the door and whistled.

"Well, still can't find my pants, but there's a couple of your little get-ups in here." Jesse said.

"Any notes?"

"Yeah."

"What does it say?"

"What do you think?" asked Jesse, pulling out a folded stack of black kimonos that had obviously been taken from Hanzo's door. Jesse placed them on the counter and picked one up with a tentative hand.

"Mind if I..." Jesse started to follow, pulling the fabric over his shoulders.

Hanzo twisted his mouth and shrugged, turning away as Jesse dropped his serape to the floor. After a few long seconds of fabric ruffling, Hanzo turned back around to see that Jesse had done a horrible job tying his newfound garment.

"I only got one arm." Jesse protested when he saw Hanzo's disproving glare.

Hanzo didn't let himself get any ideas as he stepped forward and fashioned the clothing properly. Once properly secured, Jesse touched the fabric with a finger, familiarizing himself.

Hanzo winced.

"Didn't think it was that bad." Jesse said, eyeing Hanzo's face.

Hanzo stiffened, having no desire to tell Jesse that his wince had nothing to do with unattractiveness.

"Just hand me one." Hanzo replied.

He was quickly tossed a garment.

"Thank you." Hanzo followed. Turning his back to Jesse, Hanzo stripped himself of the sheet and pulled on the kimono, fastening it quickly. He turned back to Jesse to find him, without warning, sporting an expression of unadulterated shock.

His eyes were so wide that Hanzo nearly jumped.

"What? What is it?" Hanzo asked. 

Jesse's brows came together in what looked unmistakably like deep regret. 

" --oh, fucking lord." Jesse groaned, covering his mouth with his hand

"What is it now?" 

"It's nothin'. Just--oh christ, you're gonna find out sooner or later."

"Find out what?"

Keeping his face hidden, Jesse rubbed his temple. Hanzo could just make out the bright red of his ears.

"I am so, so sorry." Jesse mumbled.

"What am I going to find out?"

Hanzo all but bared his teeth as Jesse tightened his hand around his face.

"Look, just, don't go 'round wearin' any backless shirts, ok?" Jesse answered.

"What is on my back?"

Jesse shook his head.

Making his way back down the hall, Hanzo turned towards the mirror on the outside of his bedroom door and pulled off the arms of his kimono so that it hung around his waist and exposed his torso. Before he could even turn around to see what Jesse had been flushing at, he jolted at his naked front side.

Peeking out from under his messy hair, dark purple bruises adorned the skin along his neck to his collar bone, and Hanzo didn't think they had come from the mission. 

"You alright?" Jesse asked, muffled by his hand. "Just tell me how you're takin' it."

"I am still on the front." Hanzo answered as he turned.

Hanzo's blood heated so quickly that his vision blurred when he caught sight of his backside. Scrawled low on his back, in thick, black lettering, the words " _Property of Jesse McCree_ " stood out against a sea of tiny doodled hearts.

Maybe the Yakuza would take him back.

"You alright?" Jesse repeated, voice an octave higher.

In a language Jesse didn't know, Hanzo murmured a long string of words, each one alone vicious enough to make a grown man jump. He made his way back to the kitchenette at a slow, steady pace that he doubted could have been disrupted even if the ground turned to hot coals.

"McCree?" Hanzo asked, voice as low and calm as he could muster as he retied his kimono.

"...Yeah?"

Hanzo turned to Jesse, who had taken a seat on the counter. His head was now lodged in his elbow, and from the tiny bit of his face that Hanzo could see, he would likely be burning a hole through the crook of his arm very soon.

It was honestly a little terrifying. Hanzo didn't know if he'd ever seen Jesse so compromised. 

"Why would you do this?" asked Hanzo.

"I don't know."

Maybe this was hell. Maybe god just hated Hanzo. Was punishing him for what he did to Genji and his sins against society. 

"I'm sorry." Jesse repeated.

Hanzo said nothing. As much as Jesse seemed to be willing to take the blame, Hanzo was still stuck with the knowledge that he'd let Jesse do it.

"I really, truly mean that, Hanzo." Jesse followed, and Hanzo hated how serious he sounded. He could count the number of times he'd heard Jesse's voice stripped of its playfulness on one hand.

"I am aware." Hanzo replied.

"Look, I don't give a damn anymore about my pride. I just want you to know that I'd do just about anything to make you comfortable with me again, and I reckon you can figure out what that implies."

Hanzo had been watching movies, downing liqueur, heavily debating, and training with Jesse McCree for the past eighteen months. Jesse's comment was the closest either one of them had ever come to admitting that they were best friends, at least to Hanzo's knowledge.

The pain in Jesse's tone was distressing. Hanzo couldn't help but feel like this was his own fault. He knew Jesse could tell that he was upset, but he also knew it wasn't for the reason Jesse thought it was. 

"Truthfully," Hanzo said, his breath like gravel, "it is as much my fault as yours."

"I could a' waited until you were unconscious to do it."

"I suppose."

"Look, maybe I just did it as a prank. Like a dick on the face. Maybe I just like writin' my name."

"Then why the--hearts?" Hanzo asked before he could stop himself.

"I like to draw shapes, I dunno. Used to draw little stars instead a' taking notes in class."

Hanzo stood, staring blankly at the wall as the seconds ticked past. He pushed away his thoughts, pushed away the anxiety and guilt and thrill and regret, deciding instead to think about their other problem: They'd searched the whole place and still hadn't found Jesse's arm, clothes, hat, or dignity.

Hanzo knew what they had to do.

"Let's check the bathroom." Hanzo said dryly. 

"Guess I don't got much else to lose." 

Hanzo walked side by side with Jesse to the door as Jesse fanned his face. After a tentative moment of neither of them making a move, Jesse finally reached for the door nob. He twisted and pulled, and the door fell open.

There were no imminent signs of a dead body, so that was good. Jesse walked in first and Hanzo followed.

He shut the door behind him.

Jesse's hat was upside-down in the sink, and Hanzo could see that something was inside it. He reached inside to find their wallets, pocketing his own and silently handing Jesse his. Jesse found his arm in the bathtub and reattached it with a clank.

"That's better." Jesse said, opening and closing his metal palm a few times. "You see anything we--"

A sudden, scraping sort of buzz filled the air. Hanzo's ears perked up right away, finding the sound to be familiar. It wasn't particularly loud, but it was off-putting enough for them both to give each other a look of confusion. Hanzo quickly scanned the bathroom, trying to find the source of the noise. Nothing caught his eye.

"Well, guess this is where we die." Jesse said in the voice of a man who had accepted his face.

"It's the start of a recording." Hanzo replied, putting his finger on the nature of the sound.

"What?"

"The noise. It's--" 

" _Heeeeey_ ," a voice slurred over the buzz, thick with Jesse's accent.

Hanzo would have jumped, had he been someone else. He and Jesse exchanged another look, this time with four saucer-shaped eyes.

" _Listen up you pig-headed, stiff-necked, heads-so-far-up-your-asses--_ " 

" _\--obdurate--_ " Hanzo's own voice chimed in, over-pronouncing the word.

" _\--obdurate, uh, mulish--_ "

" _\--refractory--_ "

" _\--refractory, sober sons a' bitches, because drunk Hanzo and me got something to tell you._ "

There was a mutual whirl of motion as Hanzo and Jesse both reached for the doorknob at the same time, refusing to meet each other's eyes. Jesse's hand got there first. He twisted, but to no avail, and Hanzo heard a thunk that indicated the door had been rigged to lock once it had closed. Hanzo's heart began to pound painfully, and he suspected it wasn't going to stop pounding for a while.

" _Me and Hanz_   _had a little heart to heart tonight,"_ drunk Jesse continued, _"where we, how should I say--_

_"Disregarded your soberly instated restrictions on the nature of the information we share with each other."_

There was another mutual whirl as they both began to frantically search for the tape. Hanzo briefly considered simply trying to shout over it, but found himself unable to form words. And as it seemed, Jesse was having the same problem.

 _"That's right, McCree, you told him how you felt."_ drunk Jesse slurred, and Hanzo heard Jesse stiffen. " _And you know what? And you know what you found out? Guess."_

Face dead white, Hanzo's hands shook as he searched the medicine cabinet. He refused to look in the mirror, making absolute sure that they wouldn't have to see each other's faces, even for a single second.

" _You two are in love._ " Jesse drawled. " _Loooove. Like Pam and Jim or those two guys from Blazing Saddles."_

To Hanzo's absolute horror, he felt a flush of heat wash over him that was far from unpleasant. He grit his teeth hard until it went away, refusing to think about anything but finding the tape and smashing it into bits. 

" _That's right, you asshats. We told each other everything, about all our fucking feelings, about how long we've been hiding 'em, about the goddamn pictures of each other in our wallets. And now, we're telling you._ "

Hanzo swore and dug his wallet back out. He swore once again when he found the picture was gone, replaced with a little paper note that read '次に 滅びる'.

" _See, the thing is, we're sick of your shit. We wanna be sweethearts, and we know you two yellow-bellied cowards want that too, even though you're not g..._ "

Drunk Jesse trailed off. Hanzo briefly considered breaking the door down, but felt that despite everything, he had no intentions of appearing quite so desperate and barbaric. So instead, he turned his gaze to the ceiling, seeing if he could at least find the line of toothfloss they'd most definitely used to rig this up. 

" _What are you lookin at?"_  asked drunk Jesse with a sort of giddiness that both sent a spark into Hanzo's heart and made him want to reach through his eyes and pull out his own brain.

" _You._ " drunk Hanzo replied.

The giggle that followed was truly unbearable.

" _Point is--_ " Jesse continued, suddenly muffled, " _that--Hanzo--baby doll--i's hard to talk when you keep kissin--_ "

Hanzo finally, finally spotted the shadow of the tape-recorder inside of the bowl-shaped cover over the overhead light. He tried to reach, but he found himself too short. He nudged Jesse with an elbow and barely managed the word ' _light'._ He turned his gaze towards the bar of soap in the kitchen sink as he heard Jesse reach up.

" _I'm gonna wrap this up. I think ya'll get the point. Anything you wanna add, Hanz?"_

" _Yes. To the future, more clear-headed version of myself listening to this, I say, from the bottom of my heart; you would do well to reach deep into your rectum and pull out the stick you've had lodged up there since age four. Fuck you,_ _I hope this was an unimaginably unpleasant experience._ "

There was a mutual drunken snicker in the tape. Jesse placed the tape on the counter in front of Hanzo.

" _And fuck my parents._ " drunk Hanzo continued.

" _Alright--_ "

In a single strike, Hanzo brought his hand down on the tape, sending plastic components flying into the sink.

A very, very long moment of silence went by. Hanzo grabbed the bar of soap from the little dish at the side of the kitchen sink. He picked at the edge, widdling it down with his blunt nails into as smooth of an arc as he could manage.

"So." Jesse said. 

Hanzo wished he could think. Under his chest, he felt the surreal, almost indecipherable combination of shame, anticipation, and elation that came from finding out that the man he was in love with loved him back, in only the most irksome way he could possibly conceptualize, but he turned himself away from trying to interpret it, finding it overwhelmingly confusing.  

But despite everything, he also found himself with his mouth open, ready to reply.

"I have lived for forty-one years." Hanzo started, slowly making his way over the words. "I was born into a family of organized crime. I was forced to kill at a very young age, before I could turn myself numb to it. I have been interrogated. Fought off countless assassination attempts. Been forced to watch human beings be brutally tortured. I--I've listen to Commander Amari describe her gynecological exams. So I--"

Hanzo squeezed his eyes shut and took a long breath, surprising himself again with a dark chuckle. 

"So I believe it truly means something when I say I have never been quite this uncomfortable before." he finished.

Jesse made an indefinable noise. Having successfully smoothed down the first corner, Hanzo turned the soap to a different edge.

Finally, Jesse started to laugh. It was a quiet, shrill sort of laugh, but it was enough to coax Hanzo into letting out the breath he was holding into a chuckle of his own, making it a mutual affair. The way the tension began to melt off of Hanzo's shoulders, like the wax off a candle placed by a blow torch, was so utterly relieving that his head spun and his chest almost heaved.

"Goddamn, we are..." Jesse trailed off.

"We are..."

"We..."

Hanzo shook his head in disbelief. 

"Morrison can say what he wants about us, but goddamn, do we got style." Jesse finished.

There was another mutual laugh. More comfortable. Hanzo's shoulder's shook.

"How goddamn hard must that have been?" Jesse continued. "Settin' all that up, completely wasted? Pulling off a Barcelona classic?" 

"They--we were certainly thorough in making the experience as dreadful as possible for ourselves."

"Goddamn sadists."

"They removed us deniability."

The moment that followed was filled with the simultaneous, unsaid acceptance of the fact that they were in love, mixed with the inability to look each other in the eyes. It was strange, although at this point, it did little to phase Hanzo.

"I should a' told how I felt." Jesse murmured.

"Imagine what we could have avoided."

"Public humiliation?"

"Perhaps we deserved it."

"Especially you."

"Especially me." 

Hanzo put down the soap.

"What should we do now?" Jesse asked.

"I don't know. I am not a god."

"Do you mind if I wreck your doorknob?"

"No, as it seems the situation calls for it." Hanzo answered, remembering that they'd been locked in the bathroom against their will.

With his metal hand, Jesse crushed the doorknob. He fiddled around for a moment, and the door fell open. Hanzo followed him outside, relived to be gone from such a small, eventful space.

He still didn't look at Jesse. Still couldn't bring himself to meet his eyes. However, Hanzo knew the feeling was both mutual and felt no judgement on either end, which at the very least, brought him the comfort he needed.

"Listen, Hanz." Jesse started as they wandered into the living room, Hanzo a few steps behind. "I think we got a lot more to talk about, but I reckon it might be better for both of us to get some air. You gonna be alright if I dip to my room for a while to clear my head?"

"Absolutely. I would like some time to collect my thoughts."

Hanzo sat down on the couch, watching Jesse walk towards the front door in the corner of his eye. They'd never managed to find Jesse's shoes, but Jesse didn't seem to care. Still, he lingered, one hand on the nob. Hanzo turned away. 

"But, uh, would you..." Jesse started, and Hanzo could almost hear him scratching his head.

"Yes?"

"Would you like to have--dinner tonight? With me?"

He sounded almost bashful. Hanzo had never heard a tone like it from Jesse's mouth before.

"I--Yes. Perhaps we will be more collected. Although I feel I should say that even though I know certain...yearnings...I have are reciprocated, I still have my various fears and doubts."

"I understand." Jesse replied, too quickly. "You don't owe me--"

"But I also suspect that to buy too heavily into those fears and doubts would be a failure of my character to understand the, um, lessons in trivialization he--I so adamantly laid out." 

Hanzo couldn't swear it with any realistic certainty, but he thought he heard Jesse smile.

"We'll talk about it later." Jesse said.

A moment passed. Jesse still didn't didn't leave, lagging at the door like there was one last loose end.

"I do wonder, though." Jesse followed. "What happened last night?"

Hanzo scoffed in amusement.

"I cannot say." he replied, truthfully.

"Guess we'll never know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why anyone would grace me with this but itssinenoon drew the "Property of Jesse McCree" scene from this check it out it's really good and this time it's not a rickroll.
> 
> http://itssinenoon.tumblr.com/post/180417822222/quick-doodle-of-the-best-scene-ever-from-this


	2. The Night Before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alSO ITSINENOON DREW ANOTHER ONE OF MY DUMB SCENES AND ITS REALLY GOOD YOU CAN SEE IT HERE  
> http://itssinenoon.tumblr.com/post/180491573217/painting-practice-for-the-first-time-in-forever-ft

Tweleve hours earlier, Hanzo Shimada sat on his couch, absolutely furious.  

Overwatch had just gotten back from Venice, tasked with pushing Talon soldiers away from civilians. Hanzo swirled the sake through his gourd as he thought about the assignment.

There'd been a bomb threat. Hana was supposed to go. Jesse had called Morrison out for sending someone too young before jumping in alone on what was, as a squishy human, almost a guaranteed suicide mission. Not only that, but he'd trashed his comm, leaving everyone in uncertain disarray while they tracked down his signal after he'd finished the job, unsure if they were going to find a dead body.

Ana had cried.

Somehow for reasons that Hanzo had not been present for, Jesse'd ended up alive, not even looking the least bit regretful as they pulled him from the rubble. Commander Morrison had been furious. Hanzo, however, had beat him to the punch.

Hanzo had yelled at Jesse in front of everyone, ignored the look of dread on Jesse's face, and slumped down in a seat in the back of the ship, refusing to speak to or look at anyone for the duration of the flight.

Jesse'd deserved it. 

Everyone had been shocked. Hanzo had been known to make passive-aggressive jabs when he was annoyed and to snap out orders when pressure called for it, but he'd never chewed someone out before. People knew that he and Jesse were friends, too. Jesse was one of the only people in Gibraltar that Hanzo could tolerate for more than half an hour.

Hanzo took another shot. He'd yelled at Jesse hours ago, but he'd still never managed to stop shaking.

He almost jumped as a knock landed on his door. His brother, probably. Genji had already tried once, right after the ship had landed, to confront Hanzo. Hanzo had pulled away and gone straight for his quarters. He probably would have knocked his brother over had Genji not stepped to the side. 

The knock repeated. Hanzo didn't make any noise, having no intentions of letting his brother in.

"I know you're in there, Hanzo." said the voice on the other side of the door. Hanzo raised an eyebrow to hear that it wasn't Genji's voice, but a milky drawl that belonged to the very man of his blood-tainted thoughts. 

Hanzo sneered. It was even worse than he'd thought.

"Answer the damn door." Jesse called again. 

Jesse's voice sounded more disheveled than usual, and his drawl, usually light, was currently more akin to molasses. Hanzo couldn't tell if he was very tired, very angry, or very drunk. 

"You got three seconds to make yourself decent before I come in." Jesse said. "I don't care if you kill me."

Hanzo groaned. He had forgotten Jesse knew the combination.

The knob twisted for a turn too long before Jesse stepped in like he owned the place, closed the door behind him, and leaned against it with the most infuriating hat tip he'd ever thrown Hanzo's way. He was still in half his mission gear, decked out in his serape and combat boots, but he looked like he'd showered through most of the rubble. His hat was strapped to his back. At his hip, he held a bottle, and on his face, he held a berry-colored dusting across the olive skin under his eyes.

"Welcome." Hanzo greeted in a voice like dry wall. He stared Jesse down as he knocked back a generous amount of his sake.

"Season's greetings and deepest salutations." Jesse replied.

"You are drunk."

"How could you tell?"

"Your accent thickens. You sound like an idiot."

"Why do you think I smooth it out?" 

Hanzo watched as Jesse propped himself up against the door frame, making himself comfortable as he downed a gulp from the bottle in his hand. After he removed the bottle from his lips, he made a face of disgust and shuttered. Hanzo continued to give a disproving glare.

"I've got something to say." Jesse said, wiping his mouth.

Hanzo flashed back to Jesse's face after he'd been yelled at. The shock, and then the little moment of sorrow that had burned into the backs of Hanzo's eyes before he'd turned his face away.

"What troubles you?" Hanzo replied.

In a long-winded, half-drunken saunter, Jesse made his way to the couch in what played out as a strange, nearly theatrical way to build only the most absurd kind of tension. The couch dipped as Jesse sat down, and Hanzo felt a moment of warmth against his knee while Jesse adjusted his legs and carefully tossed his hat on the floor so that he could sit down. Hanzo stared as Jesse set the bottle down on the coffee table with a little thunk.

"This bourbon." said Jesse. "Is so bad."

Hanzo narrowed his eyes.

"You gotta try it." Jesse followed, picking the bottle back up from the table.

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's so bad. Try it."

Hanzo blinked with as little amusement as he could muster as the head of a glass bottle was waved in his face. He could smell the perfume of it, like rancid dirt.

"Trrry it." Jesse continued, pushing the head of the bottle into Hanzo's cheek.

"I've already drank enough."

"Come on. There's no such thing as too much bourbon. Just like my mama used to say."

Hanzo tried it. It was bad.

"What do you want?" Hanzo asked, feeling his nerves start to burn along with his tongue.

"I want you to drink with me."

Hanzo sighed and took a generous gulp from his gourd. Jesse took an equally large sip of his bourbon, making another face at the flavor.

"If you loath it, stop consuming it." Hanzo said.

"No."

It was where they usually would have cut off the booze, but Hanzo felt it was necessary when he went in for a second sip. Hanzo sighed as the alcohol rattled around his brain, making everything a little smoother around the edges as his object permanence began to fade. A few long seconds of silence went by. Hanzo knew that Jesse had something to say, but Jesse seemed bent on building it up.

"You yelled at me." Jesse finally said, innocent enough. Hanzo took another shot.

"You want to make amends? Is that it?" Hanzo asked, fully prepared to give Jesse a sharp-tongued lecture that thoroughly explained why his chewing-out session had been justified. 

"I wanna know why you yelled at me."

Hanzo met Jesse's gaze with an eyebrow raised into his hairline. Jesse McCree was unbelievable.

"You broke your communication device." Hanzo started, voice sharp. "You made reckless and brash choices based on neither strategical tactics nor well-thought out altruism, but your own pathetic inability to disregard your emotional impulses. You disobeyed direct orders--"

"Since when do you give a damn what Morrison thinks?"

There was a semblance of truth to Jesse's point of hypocrisy. Hanzo didn't care for Morrison, didn't even really care for Overwatch. He didn't feel he knew enough about the state of the world to give his loyalty fully to the cause. In truth, he was only even there in the first place because Genji, who's judgement Hanzo somewhat trusted and who Hanzo had no intentions of further disserviceing, had asked.

"Even if I disagree with a commander's calls, I would only actively disobey them if I believed something actually substantial was at stake. We need some semblance of order--"

"D.Va not substantial?"

Hanzo grit his teeth.

"Ms. Song would have been fine. At the time, she was encased in several tons of industrial steel."

"Yeah, well, I'm old. She ain't."

Hanzo responded by downing another mouthful of liqueur. He'd been tipsy when Jesse'd walked in, and now he was really starting the affects. 

"Look, Hanzo." Jesse said, his voice dialed back in an attempting to be calmer. "I ain't askin' why you lectured me. I'm asking why you yelled."

Hanzo felt a sudden, strange sort of shame that he couldn't find the source of. Jesse less took a drink of his bourbon and more tossed it at his face, gagging at what did end up in his mouth.

"So bad." he murmured.

"You may have some of mine."

"I'm good."

Neither of them spoke for a few long moments, the air thick with discomfort. It felt strange. Usually, being half-drunk with Jesse McCree in the evening meant a night of antics, passionate conversation, and rants about their respective governments.

"So?" Jesse asked. Hanzo eyed him.

"What?"

"Why'd you yell at me?" 

"Why does it trouble you?"

"I asked you first."

Hanzo sighed. Wanting to mix things up, he reached for the bourbon, finding it a little easier to swallow than before.

Still not great. 

"I don't know." he answered.

It was a lie. Hanzo knew. He just didn't like to think about it. Especially not now, because thinking about it made him realize how selfish and irrational his reaction had been. It made it harder to justify what he had done, ethically or otherwise as he desperately clung to scraps of his previous argument; Jesse's brashness and the duty of a soldier.

"Don't shit me." 

Hanzo was silent. 

"Ok, how 'bout this." Jesse followed. "We'll make it a contest."

"Contest?"

"Yeah. Last one to finish his drink--" Jesse tapped his bottle. "--has to answer first."

Despite his better judgement, a competitive part of Hanzo itched. He and Jesse had never actually done a proper test to see who could down their liqueur faster.

Hanzo reached for Jesse's bourbon. With a frown, he found it far lighter than his own drink.

"You're a cheat." Hanzo said. "I will get us what we need to do this properly."

On confused feet, Hanzo stood, needing a moment to collect himself before he could walk straight. When he'd been sitting, he hadn't realized how far gone he was. However, now that he was moving, he felt that reality was lagging a little, that his vision was a second behind where his eyes were looking.

This did little to stop him from grabbing two glasses so that they could go through with Jesse's plan.

The room shifted a tad as he made his way back to the couch, but Jesse's eyes stood out like a focal point. Hanzo was quick to notice them staring at him, continuing as he sat down and poured the rest of his sake, equally filled the two glasses. 

"What?" Hanzo asked. "What is it?"

"What's what?"

"You are staring."

Jesse shrugged.

"Like lookin' at you." he answered.

Despite Hanzo's brash nature and inability to socially engage with most of the population, Hanzo was more than aware that he was, for all intensive purposes, a living work of art.

"What? Why?" Hanzo asked, too drunk to feel ashamed about playing dumb.

Jesse shrugged.

"Just do." 

Hanzo felt another little burst of irritation, but he tapped the glasses on the table before he could express it. Jesse took one, and Hanzo took the other.

"Ready?" asked Jesse.

Hanzo nodded.

"Count a' three." Jesse continued. "One...two...three!"

Hanzo slammed the cup into his face, downed it with the experience of a man who'd had some rough thirties, and smacked the empty glass onto the table with impressive speed. But to his horror, the click of his glass against the wood came a half-second after Jesse's.

"Better luck next time, pumpkin." Jesse slurred with a grin that forced Hanzo to simoltaniously repress both a violent impluse and a sexual one.

"Kuso kurae!" Hanzo swore. Jesse ruffled Hanzo's bangs.

"Start talkin'."

"What am I supposed to say?"

"Supposed to tell me why you yelled."

Hanzo's heart fell.

"I don't know." he groaned, covering part of his face with his hand. It was a wasted effort, quite literally; he knew he was too drunk to pull off a lie.

"Yeah you do."

"I do not!"

"Bullshit."

Hanzo said nothing. Jesse eyed him, waiting. Hanzo felt words bubbling in his throat, but he kept his mouth shut, fearing he wouldn't know what they were until he said them.

"What do you want me to say?" Hanzo finally snapped, sudden enough to make Jesse flinch. "That I was absolutely terrified? That I spent every second you were without your comm wondering if it was the last time I'd hear your voice? That I cannot even conceptualize what I would done had you--"

Hanzo cut himself off, not trusting himself to keep his voice steady.

Jesse was silent. 

Hanzo hid his face in his hands, overwhelmed with guilt as he came face to face with his mistake. Against his own volition, he tipped over into the floor, his world spinning.

"Hanzo..." Jesse mumbled.

"I should not have shouted. It was wrong to degrade you for putting your life before others. I will apologize tomorrow. Publicly. To Ms. Song, as well, for failing to place value on her life."

"Well, you were kinda right to scold me. What I did was stupid. I wasn't thinking with my head, I was just sorta going with my first emotional impulse."

"Which is why my actions were not only cruel, but deeply hypocritical."

Jesse sighed. Out of reflex, Hanzo swallowed the lump in his throat. 

"Can I help you off the floor?" asked Jesse. "Rather have this conversation face to face."

Hanzo grunted.

"Please?" Jesse begged.

Hanzo grunted again. It turned out that Jesse wasn't making a request as strong hands reached for his shoulders and guided him back onto the couch.

Hanzo counted at least a hundred seconds before he could talk.

"Alright." Hanzo finally said, his voice raw. "I paid my end of the bargain. Now, pay yours."

"What was my end?"

"To tell me why it troubled you so much. That I shouted."

"Oh yeah. Cause you're my friend, you dumb shit. What else would it be?"

Hanzo let his eyes close with a frown as Jesse's words filled him. It was only a small confession of Jesse's, to admit he cared, which really should have been apparent just from the amount of time they spent together and literally everything Jesse had ever said to him, so Hanzo only had to struggle for a second or two to keep from bursting into tears. He looked over to Jesse, who was wedged between two pillows. Jesse's face was flushed, his clothing looked soft, and when he noticed Hanzo staring, he gave a tiny mock solute.

He looked very warm.

Hanzo felt his toes squeeze as he was hit with a sudden urge for physical contact. Prepared to blame his lack of motor skills if he was met with even the slightest hint of resistance, Hanzo let his head fall against Jesse's left shoulder.

"I think you were right to call me out. I still don't like that you yelled." Jesse followed. To Hanzo's surprise and utter, bone-deep delight, Jesse wrapped his metal hand around Hanzo's body, pulling him in. The metal of his prosthetic was cold, but Hanzo still felt hot.

"But I'll forgive you in a heartbeat." Jesse continued. "You know why?"

"Mmph."

"Cause sometimes, you just can't be a tactical genius, the best shot in the East, clever piece of shit with cheek bones that scrape the goddamn clouds, and have the whereabouts of a shrink to understand what the hell's going on in your head." 

Hanzo was silent as Jesse's words washed over him, making him feel better despite his conscious desire not to let them.

"Point is," Jesse continued, tripping over his words, "Reckon I'd have to be a bigger jackass than I am to not cut you some slack for bein' a little tee-sunder sometimes."

Hanzo's eyebrows came together in confusion.

"Tee-sunder?" he asked.

"You know, tee-sunder. All cold and prickly on the outside but, uh, squishy on the inside? You should know this."

"Do you mean tsundere?"

"No. Tee-sunder."

Hanzo felt his mouth soften. He  scoffed at Jesse's idiocy, taking solace in the tiny moment he felt, free from his guilt.

"I'm real drunk." Jesse followed.

Hanzo grinned.

 

~~~~

 

"So what you meant, when you said my brother has been teaching you the language and the history of the Japanese, was that you two spend off-mission Saturday nights together watching Naruto?" 

"Speaking a' anime, I just gotta ask. Why is 'pervert' such a common character trait in those things?"

"Offensive."

"What? I ain't judging, just pointing it out and asking some questions."

Hanzo happily scoffed.

"Just because I am from a country that happens to make a genera of cartoon you don't understand does not mean I am going to answer all of your foolish questions." Hanzo slurred. "Your ignorance is palpable. Stop being a bigot, you backwater, podunk, imbred bumpkin."

Jesse laughed so hard that Hanzo had to steady him. Hanzo snickered too, long since able to not laugh at his own jokes.

"Hypocrisy sure is one a' your strong suits." Jesse said, squeezing Hanzo's shoulder with the hand he had wrapped around it.

"You have the nerve to call me a hypocrite? Hypocritical. You're the hypocrite."

"Listen. Hypocrisy's a natural part of life. If I went about every day in fear of hypocrisy, I'd never get anything done. So I've accepted it as a part of myself, and you should too."  


"If you truly believe that, why do you spend so much time complaining to me about other people's hypocrisy?"

"Do I gotta repeat myself?"

Hanzo giggled so hard he almost choked on his tongue. Jesse gave him a look that was downright adorable. 

After that, they settled down, if not just for a moment. There was another silence, although this one was more comfortable. It felt like just another lull in the conversation they'd have on any old day, one without shouting and when they weren't nearing the lethal limits of alcohol consumption.

"I--um." Jesse finally muttered. Hanzo looked over.

"Hmm?" he asked.

Jesse's face twisted in uncertainty for just a moment before he answered.

"I--uh--I thought about you." 

"What?"

"When I was down there, in the boiler room. After I wrecked my comm. I thought about you."

Hanzo's cheeks flushed pink. He downed a swig of Jesse's bourbon so that he could blame it on Asian glow.

"You thought about me?" he pushed. "Did you think you were going to die."

"Nah. Knew I was probably gonna be ok."

"So then why did you think of me?"

"Think about you a lot."

A hot little jolt ran through Hanzo's body. 

"And what do you think about?" Hanzo asked.

If Hanzo had been in a different, more sober state of mind, he might have thought of a more clever and elegant way to push the subject. However, he might also have simply jumped out the window, too terrified of where the evening was going and too horrified of being wrong.

"Think about a lot a' stuff." Jesse replied.

"Such as?"

In Hanzo's hazy peripheral vision, Jesse turned his head to look at Hanzo with pondering, almost skeptical eyes. Hanzo turned his own face so that their gazes could meet.

Hanzo really, really liked Jesse's face. He liked the familiar curve of his jaw, his straight, wide nose. He liked Jesse's eyes, warm and brown, and he liked his mouth, full of expression. He'd spent a lot of time, too much time, wondering what it would feel like to push forward and brush it against his own, to feel Jesse's lips part in reciprocation--

Hanzo stopped thinking about it.

"I'm not...supposed to say." Jesse answered.

"W--what?"

"He'll get all mad."

"Who will get mad?"

"Sober Jesse."

Hanzo scoffed with amusement and raised an eyebrow in an attempt to convey both confusion and intrigue.

"Sober Jesse." Hanzo repeated.

"Sober Jesse's always mad at me for speakin' my mind and throwing up everywhere. But you know what?"

"What?"

"He sure as hell keeps drinking."

Hanzo tried to put in effort to make his laugh not sound like a giggle, but gave up halfway through.

"Are you hiding something from me?" Hanzo asked, not even noticing when he knocked his knee against Jesse's until after he did it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a red light blinked, telling him he was acting with all the dignity and nuance of a twelve-year old with a crush, but the red light went away when he remembered that was half the appeal of being drunk. 

"We're all hiding something from everyone, sweetheart. We're all a bunch a' mask wearing idiots. Etcetera."

"What did you think about me?"

"Why you wanna know so bad?"

"I asked first."

"What is this, truth or dare?"

"I don't know what that is."

"You know what? We'll have another contest." Jesse announced, scratching his chin.

Hanzo shook the sake bottle to find it empty.

"We've run dry." he said. "I will get more."

"Nah, we still got this." Jesse replied, tapping the bourbon bottle. 

Hanzo shook his head dismissively but poured out the remaining bourbon evenly into their two glasses, only spilling a little on the table. There was only enough liquid for one or two tablespoons of alcohol in each cup, but it would do.

"You ready?" Jesse asked, taking a glass.

"I am prepared." Hanzo replied, taking the other.

"One...two...three!"

Hanzo slammed the bourbon down his throat, at this point finding it no more offensive than warm milk. He clunked the glass on the table, only to discover that once again, Jesse had beat him to it.

"Too slow." Jesse said.

Hanzo fell to the floor again, defeated. Jesse tried to pull him back up, but Hanzo refused, staunchly making himself as heavy as possible.

"Let me die." he begged.

"Fine. Reckon I'll just come down there."

There was a creaking noise as Jesse pushed the coffee table several feet forward so that he would have plenty of room to join Hanzo on the floor.  Hanzo hummed when Jesse lied down, dipping his face into Jesse's chest. Jesse didn't even go stiff, just wrapped his arms around Hanzo and pulled him close right away.  

Hanzo had always liked just how much shit alcohol helped two people get away with.

"Rules of the bet." Jesse said. "Start talkin'."

"What was I supposed to say?"

"Why you wanna know my sober secrets so bad."

Hanzo used his last two remaining brain cells to think of a way to weasel out of answering truthfully. He knew where he wanted this to go but had no intentions of being the one to initiate it. He pulled his head from Jesse's chest so that they could look at each other's drunken, stupid faces. Unconsciously, he made sure their mouths were an easy distance from each other. 

"I wish to know for purely selfless reasons." Hanzo lied, absentmindedly brushing his hand over Jesse's chest. "You are a troubled man, and I cannot have you burning up with lonesomeness over your own secr--what?"

Hanzo cut himself off when he noticed Jesse was staring at him, eyes suspicious and mouth undone with just the tiniest amount of surprise.

"What?" Hanzo repeated.

"Not a thing." Jesse slurred, his gaze bobbing up and down between Hanzo's piercing eyes and the lower region of his face. Hanzo felt another hot spark shoot through him, although he was too out of it to think about why.

"Whatever. I spoke my piece, now you speak yours."

Jesse's face twisted in thought as his gaze drifted a little lower, across Hanzo's shoulders. It was easy to tell where he was looking, considering how closer their faces were.

"What was I supposed to tell you?" Jesse asked.

"What your sober self does not wish me to know."

Jesse gave a nervous sort of snicker.

"Well, you see," he started, "I, uh..."

Hanzo's heart pounded, but he didn't notice.

"You, uh..." Jesse continued. "I..."

"You..."

"Oh, screw it."    

Hanzo let out a little gasp as Jesse got a hand around the back of his head and pulled, bringing their mouths together in an exchange that, although not fully registered by Hanzo's brain, was more than happily reciprocated by his mouth. He felt his own lips part, letting Jesse further into his mouth, and felt his own hand, which had already been laid across Jesse's chest, start to stroke.

' _Yawarakai._ ' Hanzo thought.

Jesse breath tasted like a strange cocktail of sake and bourbon, which Hanzo drank up like a second nature. It was strange, being so drunk. Hanzo felt the elation in his chest, the shiver of being in heaven, and the satisfaction that this was something he'd wanted for a very, very long time, and yet he still had no idea what was going on.

“What are we doing?” Hanzo mumbled against the warmth of Jesse's mouth.

“I think we’re makin' out."

Hanzo was skeptical as he slipped his tongue into Jesse's mouth. That couldn't be right.

"How can you be sure?" Hanzo asked, letting himself be pulled on top of his company. He sighed in delight when Jesse ran two hands up and down his waist. He let his own go straight for Jesse's messy hair.

"I ain't. I think I might be dreamin'." 

"The feeling is mutual."

Jesse hummed and pressed forward to kiss Hanzo with more depth. It was sloppy, uncoordinated, and moving too thoughtlessly and fast for either of them to really learn how the other kissed, but Hanzo couldn't give less of a shit. 

"I think we may simply be very drunk." Hanzo whispered.

Somewhere in the back of Hanzo's mind, another warning light blinked. Sober Hanzo wouldn't approve of their current predicament.

Jesse squeezed Hanzo's butt. Sober Hanzo could go fuck himself.

"I think I like you better when you're drunk." Jesse said between kisses, his words crashing against Hanzo's mouth with a liqueur-tainted warmth that sent a pleasant chill down his spine.

"Why?"

"Cause you let me get my tongue in your mouth, for one thing."

"Your statements imply wanting your tongue in my mouth is a common state for you." Hanzo muttered, ready and willing to put it all on the line. 

"Listen doll, it might be a crime for a man to want his tongue in his best friends mouth, but I'm already a felon in ever state 'cept Texas."

Hanzo felt his entire body flush as he pulled Jesse in for another kiss that had no business being as good as it was, clumsy and full of unintentionally crashing teeth. Jesse's voice always had a way of getting inside of Hanzo, mucking up his brain and making him feel _full_ to a degree that was sometimes uncomfortable in public, and this was certainly no exception.

“Elaborate.” he ordered.

“Oh, I don’t know if you wanna know how deep this gets?”

“I suspect you can feel--on your leg that I do."

Jesse's chuckled as he reached up to untie Hanzo's hair. Hanzo hummed as his hair tumbled down his shoulders, undone and freed, literally and otherwise.

"Fine, you asked. I--uh, think you're real cute."

Hanzo scoffed against Jesse's mouth at the choice of adjective, but did so with a truly stupid smile, unable to help it.  With two hands, Jesse carefully pulled Hanzo's head up, distancing their faces a few inches. Hanzo gave him a questioning glace.

"I think you're real, real, cute." Jesse slurred, eyes so sincere that they made Hanzo's grin drop with a tiny exhale.

" _Oh?"_

"Real cute. I'm sorry, if I wasn't so in my cup I hope I'd be a little more poetic."

"I require no poetry. I simply wish to hear that you wanted this."

Jesse glanced down at Hanzo's lips, softer now that they had been properly kissed.

"...Wanted it pretty bad." he replied.

"Sober?"

For a moment, Jesse didn't answer and Hanzo felt a sudden prick of uncertainty. Jesse started to shift underneath him. With difficulty, Jesse reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. He opened it, shedding cards left and right without care, and handed Hanzo a messy square of thick paper.

Hanzo eyed it. It was a part of a picture. The sides were torn. Hanzo recognized it as part of last year's team photo, but the rest of everyone had been ripped away, leaving behind one unenthusiastic-to-have-his-picture-taken Hanzo Shimada.

Ears flushing pink, Hanzo reached into the folds of his clothing and pulled out his own wallet to show Jesse the one he had of him. Despite his embarrassment, he felt a sort of thrill to be spilling the secrets that sober Hanzo had specfically requested for him not to share.

"Guess we can't blame this on the booze, then." Jesse said, and when he pressed their mouths back together, Hanzo could feel his smile.

Hanzo shivered under Jesse's hands as they fully indulged themselves over his body, squeezing and stroking as if they needed to learn his shape well enough to recreate with marble the next day. Hanzo reciprocated. Jesse's body was an absolute thrill to have under his own, especially after all the time Hanzo had spent getting to see it, but without getting to touch it, to feel its strength and warmth, more lean than bulky and lacking downright vain amounts of hyper definition, but Hanzo wouldn't have wanted it any different, especially when considering that it was the body of the man he'd fallen in love with. He found himself flicking his eyes open every once and a while, just to confirm it was Jesse McCree's mouth under his own.

"Can I take this off?" Jesse asked, tugging at the folds of Hanzo's clothing.

Hanzo dismounted. Knowing Jesse would do it wrong, he untied his yakata and shrugged out of it. He stood up, for just a moment, to place his clothing on the couch, so that he wouldn't lose it in his drunken haze. When he turned back, Jesse had sat up.  

"Jesse Christ." Jesse said, eyes wide and all remaining scraps of his cleverness leaving him as he flickered his eyes down Hanzo's body.

"Hmm?" Hanzo questioned, as if he didn't know. 

"You..."

Jesse trailed off as Hanzo sat before him, reaching out a metal hand to lay across Hanzo's abdomine.

"I?" Hanzo asked.

Jesse answered by wrapping his hands around Hanzo's hips and buiring his face in Hanzo's chest. Hanzo groaned as Jesse kissed and sucked, and then again as he found himself being pushed onto his back, desperate and fast yet somewhat respectful. Keeping his mouth between Hanzo's pecs, Jesse reached up to press a hand behind Hanzo's head, saving him from a bump. Flat on his back, Hanzo let his legs get knocked apart as Jesse slipped his thigh between them.

Hanzo was too drunk to care how loudly he cried out when Jesse started to rock his hips.

"Am I hurtin' you?" Jesse asked. "You comfy?"

"Your belt buckle is--"

"Hang on."

Jesse scrambled out his his belt so quickly that Hanzo's head spun, before returning to their previous endeavor and setting his hips at a slow pace as he scraped his teeth over the skin of Hanzo's neck. Hanzo squirmed, hungry for maximum stimulation. Jesse's erection was pressed snugly against Hanzo's hip, and Hanzo used his own hips to make sure it got attention as their pelvises moved together, in retaliation to the contact Jesse's thigh was giving him. Hanzo threaded his fingers into Jesse's hair, pulling his head over the sensitive places on his neck and gasping loud when they were found. 

"Wanted you." Jesse groaned.

"How long?"

"Months."

"Why didn't you say?" Hanzo asked, mind suddenly filled with dozens of memories of times on the couch he'd wanted to reach out and touch Jesse's face, to kiss him, to tell him, but didn't, opting to torture himself instead.

"Scared. Overthunk it."

"But you thought about it?"

Their voices were rough, full of heavy breath and unrefined honesty. The charge it sent through Hanzo's body was unreal.

"Can't stop thinkin' about you." Jesse replied, threading his right hand through Hanzo's left in a gesture that made Hanzo warm all over.

"What did you think about?"

"Everything. Your...voice. And your hair. The look on your face when you solve some...puzzle you were thinkin' about. And the things you say, and the cute little sigh you make whenever you indulge in one a' life's simple pleasures..." 

Jesse trailed off as Hanzo stopped their hips, just for a moment, to pull Jesse into a kiss that was sweeter, more thoughtful, savoring the softness of his mouth and the scratch of his beard that was doing an excellent job reminding Hanzo of who he was kissing.

It only lasted a moment. Hanzo was too drunk and too riled up to let it linger, but when he jump-started their hips back together, he made sure their fingers were still tangled together.

"So cute." Jesse whispered, eyeing Hanzo's face in awe.

Jesse's breath was heavy, his mouth coming rhythmically undone with a beautiful little sound every time Hanzo raised his pelvis to meet Jesse's thigh and raised his hip to meet Jesse's cock.

It was physically awkward. Uncoordinated. Hanzo didn't care. It was the thought that counted.

"Sorry I'm so wasted." Jesse said. "Wish I could pleasure you proper."

Even though Hanzo was too drunk to fully comprehend the extent of the intense satisfaction and drug-like state that came of simultaneously discovering both his strong romantic feelings and lust were reciprocated, he was, at the very least, able to appreciate the sheer ecstasy it sent through his body, warm like fire and so intensely stimulating that he was almost grateful for the booze, as he heavily suspected that a more sober Hanzo would have broken down panicking.

"Do you think about this?"

"Messing around?"

Hanzo nodded. Jesse gulped.

"What, you want me to tell you that I'm thinkin' of you when I got a hand under the blanket?" Jesse asked, voice like honey.

Hanzo groaned at the growing arousal under his belly. He hadn't let himself shamelessly indulge like this in what felt like ages. 

"If you do, I'll tell you what I do." he replied.

"Fine, fine. You seen the way you look? Reckon I just can't help it when I think about you all naked and laid out for me."

"Sober?"

"Sober Jesse tortures himself by trying his hardest to think about something other than his best friend. It don't usually work." 

Hanzo bit his lip and tugged at the fabric of Jesse's jeans until Jesse pulled away for just a moment to yank them partway down his thighs, supplying Hanzo with a short snapshot of the outline of his cock through his briefs before he reconnected their pelvises.

"You gonna fill your end, or what?" Jesse said. It took Hanzo a moment to remember, but when he did, he felt his eyes darken.

"I touch--oh." Hanzo started, cutting himself off with a groan as Jesse gave him a particularly good stroke with his thigh.

"Touch what? What do you touch, Hanzo?"

With his free hand, Hanzo fingered his left nipple.

"These." he said. "And I think of you."

Jesse muttered an obscenity and increased the friction of their hips to something less thoughtful and more desperate. On his hip, Hanzo could feel the fabric of Jesse's briefs dampen.

"Stone cold sober." Hanzo added.

"You're shittin' me."

"I'm not. Although I will admit I tend to loath myself in the time that precedes the release."

"Don't you dare loath yourself for something like that. Can I...?"

Jesse brushed his fingers against Hanzo's chest.

"Please." 

Hanzo's breath hitched as Jesse pinched the left nub of flesh between his fingers and began to roll, sending out little spikes of pleasure through Hanzo's torso. Hanzo wondered if Jesse noticed how much his cock was tightening.

"Wish the angle was right so I could suck on 'em." Jesse said.

Hanzo let out a shaky groan at the thought, although he was secretly relieved Jesse didn't have the space, worried he wouldn't be able to handle it on top of everything else.

"I wanna make you come." Jesse groaned.

"I would not complain."

"We're too drunk to fuck."

"True."

"Any ideas?"

Hanzo tried to think. It was difficult. It probably would have been easier if they stopped grinding, but neither of them seemed interested in doing so.

"We could rub our--" Hanzo started.

"Yes."

They both scrambled to pull down their underwear, Hanzo ending up with only one leg through. Hanzo sat himself in Jesse's lap when he was done, letting his legs fall to Jesse's sides and scooting himself up so that their erections could meet. He took only a short second of time to familiarize himself with Jesse's cock before licking his hand and wrapping it up with his own in his palm, but that was probably fine.

"Christ." Jesse said. 

Hanzo started to pump in a series of quick, tight pulls, immediately feeling the pressure start to grow. He was too much of a mess for something more thoughtful and drawn out, but he felt it was what the situation called for. He kept his eyes on Jesse's face, on Jesse's eyes, full of pupil and dark against the berry-dusting across the bridge of his nose, his mouth, perpetually undone with sighs of pleasure, and the curve of his face, delightfully familiar. Hanzo didn't know what his own face was doing, but whatever it was, Jesse seemed to be equally interested.

"I love you." Jesse muttered.

The confession was so unbelievably untimely that Hanzo had to struggle not to laugh, and it was so sincere that Hanzo had to struggle to make sure his dick was the only part of him that was about to cry. However, e ven blissed-out and giving no regards for his dignity, Hanzo didn't know how to reciprocate with words, especially not when he was about to have an orgasm, so he pushed forwards, capturing Jesse's mouth under his own again in more of a bite than a kiss. Jesse tangling his hands through his hair, letting Hanzo crush their lips together, pushing pretty little sounds down Hanzo's throat as Hanzo's hand pumped.

"I--you--" Hanzo sputtered once he broke away.

"It's alright, sweetheart, I know." Jesse replied, and Hanzo felt a hint of gratefulness.

"I'm about to--"

"Yeah, me too."

Jesse's hands were at his hips as Hanzo tensed, crying out with a little shudder as the heat in his abdomine overtook him in a long burst of pure pleasure that had him seeing white. Not wanting to get all sticky, Hanzo tilted both their cocks forward onto Jesse as he started to ejaculate, spilling himself down his hand and onto Jesse's shirt and underwear. Coming down, he felt like kind of a selfish asshole, so he pushed through his sudden wave of exhaustion with a few final tugs to make sure Jesse finished too, and was rewarded with getting to watch Jesse's eyes squeeze shut, and his brow tense, and his mouth gasp with a sound of unadulterated pleasure as he also streaked himself with white. 

Hanzo hoped he would remember Jesse's face.

Jesse's eyes grew heavy. Hanzo wiped his hand on Jesse's shirt, hoping Jesse wouldn't notice. A few moments of silence went by, filled only with their mutual pants and an air of disbelief surrounding what they had just done. 

"Goddamn." Jesse said.

With a happy snicker, Hanzo wrapped Jesse in an embrace and sent them both crashing towards the floor in a maneuver that should have probably hurt more than it did. He felt a new sort of sensation, a sort of multilayered, incredible satisfaction that warmed him from his chest to his toes. Still glued to Jesse's side, he buried his face under Jesse's chin.

"What in the hell just happened?" Jesse asked, and Hanzo swore he could hear the stupid smile on Jesse's mouth.

"We were mutually aggravated towards each other for some foolish work-related reason." Hanzo slurred dismissively. "Then we were increasingly flirtatious with one another until you snapped. Finally, you professed your affection and we rubbed our reproductive organs together until we had a series of muscle contractions, as is traditional within the animal kingdom."

Jesse made a noise that was half a laugh and half a choke.

"And damn, was it fun." Jesse replied.

"You put heroine to shame." Hanzo mused, truthfully.

"You've done heroine?"

"A man should never be left alone with troubles and too much money."

Jesse chuckled. Hanzo hummed like a happy moron when Jesse nudged his head up to bring their smiles together. The new kiss was slow and indulgent, right on the edge of a mutual snicker.

Although it was, admittedly, still very clumsy.

"Say you love me again." Hanzo ordered.

"I love you." Jesse said, and Hanzo felt a bright spark rush through him that he absolutely needed to feel again.

"Again."

"I love you."

"Again!"

"I--love--you." said Jesse between kisses.

"Once more."

"I love you."

Chest full of more little sparks, Hanzo pressed a kiss to Jesse's cheek before laying his head across his chest. Hanzo lifted his head, just for a moment when Jesse started to squirm, so that Jesse could rid himself of the shirt that Hanzo had "accidentally" soaked in seamen, leaving him only in dishevled breifs that Hanzo had also soaked in seamen.

"What, you want me to write it on you or somethin'?" Jesse followed. 

Hanzo's eyes lit up.

"Where you going?" Jesse asked as Hanzo sprung to less than clever feet. Hanzo didn't answer, too busy scavenging his quarters for a good felt pen or paint. To just his luck, he found a thick-tipped, black sharpie in his stationary box. He brought it back to Jesse with the pride of a tabby cat laying a disemboweled rat at her owner's feet.

"You serious?" Jesse slurred

"Permanent." 

"What'd you want me to write?" 

"You decide. I am far from poetic."

Hanzo laid down on his stomach and nearly purred at the pleasant warmth when Jesse took a seat on his butt to write. Hanzo couldn't imagine ever thinking this was a bad idea.

"So pretty." Jesse said, running his hands up the muscles of Hanzo's back.

"Free yourself from distractions. You have a task."

Jesse got to work. Hanzo nearly jumped at the cold tip of the pen as it traced over his skin. Jesse doodled for a little over a minute. With glee, Hanzo thought about what his sober self's dumb face would do when he saw.

"Done." Jesse said. "Always was good at penmanship."

"What did you write?"

" _Property of Jesse McCree_."

Hanzo chuckled.

"What do you think you'll do tomorrow?" Jesse asked.

"Perish. And you?"

"What I always do. Pull something out of my ass. Make up a backstory about how I like to pull pranks and draw shapes."

Hanzo snorted as he flipped over, positioning himself into Jesse's lap so that they could kiss again. He nearly purred as Jesse's lips traced over his own, cosmically overjoyed that he could finally, finally, kiss Jesse whenever he wanted to.

"Can't tell you how long I've wanted you to do that." Jesse mumbled as Hanzo pulled away for air.

"Why have you never told me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sober Shimada Hanzo had a wide variety of reasons for not telling you, none of which I can say I currently understand."

Jesse snickered.

"Are you gonna remember this?" Jesse asked.

"I may remember bits and pieces, but I doubt my memories will retain vivid detail."

Jesse was silent. When Hanzo looked over, he looked like he was pondering something.

"You know what'd be a hoot?" Jesse said.

"What?"

"If I spent the night. So that we'll have to deal with each other in the morning."

"Our sober selves will not be pleased." Hanzo said through his grin.

"Especially you."

"Especially me."

Hanzo broke off into a laugh. Jesse joined him.

"Admittedly," Hanzo followed, "I will probably blame the situation on our consumption."

Jesse frowned and Hanzo's heart fell with a sudden realization. Up until now, the night had seemed like the start of something. Now, the vision of them forgetting, lying to each other, and maybe even being driven further apart due to their own respective stubborn sensibilities rose as a possibility.

"You know what? Fuck those guys." Jesse declared.

"Hmm?"

"Fuck those stubborn, good-for-nothin' cowards. We should--we should do something."

"What?"

"I dunno, confront 'em. Tell those shitheads it wasn't a mistake and out them."

Hanzo thought. The proposition actually sounded pretty appealing, considering the fact that Hanzo had every intention of this being the start of a relationship while still making the process as uncomfortable for his sober self as possible.

"How would we do such a thing?" asked Hanzo.

He felt Jesse shrug. Suddenly, an idea came to mind.

"Do you remember Barcelona?" Hanzo followed, wicked smile forming on his mouth.

Jesse grinned a grin to match Hanzo's. A year ago, on a mission in Spain, they'd left the local President quite the message with an audio recording by rigging it with glue, toothfloss, and pen to play when the door to his office closed behind him.

"I'll get the other shit if you get the tape." Jesse said.

The room swiveled a little as Hanzo stood, but he did his best to help Jesse up as well. They both pulled the underwear they'd never actually gotten off back up, just for comfort. With a smile and an eyebrow wiggle, Jesse took off for the bathroom, while Hanzo took off for his living room doors in search of a proper tape recorder.

"Found it." he called to Jesse after finding it tucked behind a few candle holders that he'd never used. He tried to put everything back where he had found it, but his coordination skills had greatly suffered and he couldn't help but feel that everything looked off.

Whatever.

"I got the stuff." Jesse announced, hands full of small objects. He half fell, half sat down on the floor. Hanzo joined him. 

With a metal hand, Jesse positioned the recorder an equal distance between the two of them. 

"You ready?" he asked, his finger over record.

"As I will ever be."

"Gotcha. You want me to do most of the talkin?"

"Please." Hanzo replied. Jesse had always been better at public speaking.

A click rang out at Jesse pressed play. Jesse opened his mouth, but promptly closed it a second later. He looked over at Hanzo with an air of uncertainty. Hanzo shrugged.

"Hey." Jesse said.

' _Be cruel._ ' Hanzo mouthed. Jesse grinned.

"Listen up you pig-headed, stiff-necked, heads-so-far-up-your-asses--" Jesse followed.

"--obdurate--" Hanzo added, smile creeping on his face.

"--obdurate, uh, mulish--"

"--refractory--"

"--refractory, sober sons a' bitches, because drunk Hanzo and me got something to tell you."

Jesse met Hanzo's gaze to share in a moment of pure spite.

"Me and Hanz had a little heart to heart tonight," Jesse followed, "where we, how should I say--

"Disregarded your soberly instated restrictions on the nature of the information we share with each other."

Jesse gave Hanzo a grin that looked downright proud before continuing.

"That's right, McCree, you told him how you felt. And you know what? And you know what you found out? Guess."

Hanzo had to suppress a snicker. He imaged his future self tomorrow morning, face dead white, scampering around the bathroom like an uptight moron.

"You two are in love." Jesse said. "Loooove. Like Pam and Jim or those two guys from Blazing Saddles. That's right, you asshats. We told each other everything, about all our fucking feelings, about how long we've been hiding 'em, about the goddamn pictures of each other in our wallets. And now, we're telling you."

Hanzo hummed approvingly as he let his eyes fixate on Jesse's face, suddenly overwhelmed by how handsome he was, how pretty his eyes are, how soft his mouth looked. Unable to help himself, Hanzo scooted closer. Jesse tossed an arm over him and pulled him close. Hanzo glowed, eyes still fixated on Jesse's eyes.

"See, the thing is, we're sick of your shit. We wanna be sweethearts, and we know you two yellow-bellied cowards want that too, even though you're not g..."

Jesse trailed off. 

"What are you lookin at?" Jesse asked, right on the edge of a laugh.

"You." 

Giving into his laugh, Jesse leaned over and pressed a kiss into Hanzo's cheek. Hanzo needed more. He leaned into Jesse, tipping him onto his back.

"Point is--" Jesse tried to continue as Hanzo captured his mouth, "that--Hanzo--baby doll--i's hard to talk when you keep kissin--"

Suddenly remembering that they were recording an important message, Hanzo pulled away from Jesse's mouth. He did, however, press kisses down the side of Jesse's face, and hummed approvingly when Jesse tangled a hand through his hair and started to rub.

"I'm gonna wrap this up. I think ya'll get the point. Anything you wanna add, Hanz?"

Hanzo pulled his head up from Jesse's neck, knowing exactly what he wanted to add.

"Yes." Hanzo started, positively thrilled. "To the future, more clear-headed version of myself listening to this, I can say, from the bottom of my heart, you would do well to reach deep into your rectum and pull out the stick you've had lodged up there since age four. Fuck you, I hope this was an unpleasant experience."

Jesse's snort quickly turned into laughter and Hanzo had no intentions of not joining.

"And fuck my parents." Hanzo continued.

"Alright." Jesse replied.

"And fuck the governm--"

Hanzo was cut off as Jesse grabbed the back of his head and found his mouth, crushing their lips together. Hanzo let his hands roam happily, so happy, happier than he could remember himself being in a long time. He could have stayed there on the floor, kissing Jesse McCree forever, had he not been struck with a very specific urge.

"Excuse me." Hanzo said politely, peeling himself off of Jesse to get to his feet, giving a little bow out of instinct before power walking to the bathroom and throwing up everything he'd eaten in the last week.

"You alright?" Jesse called, his voice coming from right outside the bathroom.

" _Hhhhggg_. Yes. Why do you ask?" Hanzo asked, still giddy as he finished another set of convulsions.

"Need me to hold your hair back?" 

"Will not be needed. I've concluded my business."

"If you say so."

Hanzo flushed the toilet, washed his hands, tried to brush his teeth, and rejoined Jesse outside, who held up the recording device and assembly of other objects.

"What room where you thinking of trapping?" Jesse asked with a grin.

Hanzo pointed back at the bathroom. It was the only room he had complete with a closing door besides his bedroom.

"Perfect." Jesse said.

They got to work. It was a bit difficult, considering their lack of motor skills, but after a few long minutes of fiddling with the door, overhead light, toothfloss and glue, and occasional stops to vomit violently, they were done in no time.

"Damn, this thing's convenient." Jesse said after he'd finished heaving into the toilet.

"Here." Hanzo said, handing Jesse a pill from the medicine cabinet.

"What's this?"

"Will decrease our hangover symptoms next morning. This way we will not have to resemble two patients nearing death by dysentery."

"Uh--ok." Jesse replied, taking the pill with a face Hanzo didn't understand.

Rigging the door lock to stay locked once the door was closed wasn't hard either. Jesse proved himself to have a surprisingly large amount of knowledge with booby-traps from Blackwatch.

"How can we make sure we close the door behind us tomorrow?" Jesse asked.

"I always close doors behind me. A childhood compulsion."

"And are you s ure you won't break the door down?"

"No. Sober Hanzo wishes to distance himself from his more ungoverned hominoid ancestors."

"Sounds like sober Hanzo."

"How will we guarantee that we can get ourselves in here?" 

Jesse looked thoughtful for a full twenty seconds before detaching his arm and tossing it in the bathtub.

"Perfection." Hanzo said.

"We should leave notes for ourselves, too."

"And we should hide our clothing, forcing each other to spend more time in each other's presences."

"You're such a clever little thing." Jesse replied, beaming.

Hiding their clothing in strange spots proved itself to be an easier task drunk. Jesse got the grand idea to put all of Hanzo's underwear in the freezer, and Hanzo tossed his hair ribbon on the hall light, just because. Jesse brought his hat back from the couch and placed it in the sink, along with their mildly altered wallets.

"Should I put my pants in there too?" Jesse asked as Hanzo tossed all of his kimonos into the fridge.

Hanzo shook his head, suddenly struck with another idea.

"No." he said. "Put them in the wash."

"Why?"

"Because then you will be forced to wear my clothing, which I can assure you, will have an effect on me.

Jesse grinned and didn't stop grinning while they sprinkled Hanzo's quarters with little notes, eventually ending up back in Hanzo's bedroom. They stripped their underwear down for the wash, and Hanzo got his first real look at Jesse's butt. It was pretty neat.

"What's in that drawer?" Jesse asked, pointing to the one drawer they hadn't touched. 

Hanzo opened the drawer to reveal a tidy collection of socks, all bound to their proper brother and facing the same way. Jesse scoffed.

"How's that whole bureaucracy thing going?" Jesse asked.

"Better on paper." Hanzo admitted, bursting into a fit of childish laughter as soon as the words had left his lips. Jesse had to steady him.

The last thing they did was dump all of Hanzo's blankets out the window, bent on giving each other as little to cover themselves with as possible. When they finally fell into bed, Hanzo felt like he was coming home after a long day of work.

"Hang on." Jesse said. "Let's tangle ourselves so that--"

"We will be forced to wake each other. Perfect."

Hanzo hummed as Jesse pulled him close. He pressed one last kiss to Jesse's cheek, and sent a silent prayer out into the universe that whatever plan they'd set up that he had had already forgotten most of the details of would work.

"I love you." Jesse mumbled. 

"And I--"

Hanzo blacked out mid-sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I'm sorry if this is super strange but there's something that's been bugging me for a short while, and I wanted to give my thoughts. I posted something similar to this on Tumblr, so if it seems familiar, that’s why.
> 
> So over the past two weeks or so, ever since the reuinion short I’ve seen a bunch of people online bickering over the subtext of the short and the nature of McCree and Ashe’s relationship, analysizing the subtext of their in game interactions and bringing up micheal chu’s weird tweets. I think that all this comes from a little bit of semi-unsaid disappointment, which is to be expected. Because part of the fun of any ship is the tension between the fandom and the creators, the hope that “someday maybe it will be canon”, and although the new short didn’t sink McHanzo, I do think it made Mchanzo (and the huge number of people who want it to happen) feel ignored, to see McCree acting ambiguously flirtatious with two women. However, I just want to say that I think all of this Ashe and bisexuality discourse comes from a misunderstanding of what Overwatch story is, and how Blizzard’s business model works.
> 
> Here’s how I see it. Overwatch characters don’t have “sexualities” like most characters do, because most of them where not conceptualized with their sexualities in mind, save for maybe Tracer and the ones with spouses who are assumed to be straight. Blizzard probably will announce a few more characters as queer in the future, but I seriously doubt that they currently know who those characters will be. Or even if they do know, that said queerness will have anything to do with their character. They don't even really have chracters. McCree has about three paragraphs of chracterization and Hanzo has three sentences. 
> 
> Mccree’s interaction with Echo can be interpreted as romantic. It could also be interpreted as a product of who he is as a person, how he shows respect to women, and the scene is meant to show McCree’s perception of omnics (if he treats a female omnic he repects like he would a female human he respects, that shows he thinks of omnics as equal to humans). Both of these interpretations are equally valid, especially because, the thing is, I honestly don’t think Blizzard knows yet what this scene was supposed to represent. What we should remember is that Overwatch is a corporation. Their main goal is not to tell a story. Their main goal is to keep people playing their game. Overwatch lore is not Harry Potter lore, it’s not written like Ender’s Game, because it’s not written as the result of someone having a story they wanted to tell about characters they really loved or had full psychological conceptions of. Almost every choice Blizzard has made with their Overwatch lore has been to try to draw in as many people to play their game (and although it’s somewhat of a diverse audience their main target is straight men). That’s not to say that Blizzard is an evil or bad company. They don’t run sweat shops and for the most part, they make good games. I think Overwatch is very fun and despite the constant struggle with character balancing, well worth my 60 dollars.
> 
> My point is that your interpretations of the lore are as valid, if not more valid than Blizzard’s, because you actually made an emotional attachment and put in thought that was for the sake of something other than getting people to play your game. People who write fanfiction about Overwatch’s characters are different than when the Overwatch lore team writes about it’s own characters because fanfiction writers actually have a story to tell. I think McHanzo is an interesting ship. It is, admittedly, putting two of the hot guys together, but it has genuine potential beyond that. It’s an extremely non-traditional, interracial, inter-continental relationship between two people who obviously have different political ideologies, socio-economic statues, and cultural upbringings. It’s at least as interesting as Cowboy x Cowgirl or Cowboy x Character who’s been given 8 seconds of screen time (although, there’s nothing wrong with those two ships either and people shouldn’t hesitate to support them if they find them intriguing or just plain hot)
> 
> The bottom line is, don’t let Blizzard’s choices affect what you think is interesting or appealing or even “correct”, because Blizzard interpretation of its own characters is not “divine”. Blizzard probably isn’t even going to make that satisfying of a story because so much of their lore is just hype for new characters. If you think Mchanzo is interesting, keep writing or drawing it whether Overwatch confirms McCree as bisexual next week or just sinks the ship altogether. Because your conceptualizations of these characters are as valid, if not more valid, than Blizzards.


End file.
